My Palace, My Sukkah

Every little girl dreams of being a queen in her own palace. One day in India, I tripped into my childhood fantasy.

After three grueling months working in a Calcutta orphanage, I was treating myself to a Himalayan vacation before returning to the States. My destination was Simla, one of India's fabled "hill stations" in the foothills of the Himalayas, a haven for wealthy Indians and foreigners escaping from the heat of the Indian plains.

As our rickety bus reached the crest of the last hill before Simla, we were greeted by a horrifying sight: Masses of people, in cars, busses, and rickshaws, were fleeing the city. Alarmed inquiries by my seatmate revealed the cause: An unseasonable snowstorm had hit the town and wiped out its electrical supply. Frigid temperatures combined with no electric heaters were driving away all the tourists.

I sat there in shock. During four extended trips to India, I had dreamed of a room with a Himalayan view. My departure date five days hence left no possibility of postponing this holiday. As the bus slowly made its way over the snow-crusted streets, I decided: Cold or not, I was staying in Simla.

With the help of my copy of India on $10 a Day, I quickly found an affordable, clean, Indian-style hotel. The manager apologized that the electric heater in the room didn't work as he piled four blankets onto my arms.

"Would you like to stay in a Maharaja's palace?"

The cold kept me awake all night. Soon after dawn, I went outside hoping to warm myself in the first rays of the morning sun. A short man with a moustache accosted me. "Would you like to stay in a Maharaja's palace?"

I responded, with a wry chuckle, "Where's the Maharaja?"

"He and his family are living in London," the man responded earnestly. "The Maharaja has turned part of his palace into a hotel, the grandest accommodations in all of Simla. Since the other tourists have left, I am giving you a bargain price for a room."

His bargain price was triple what I was paying in my frigid hotel. I shook my head.

He handed me a brochure: "Woodville has ten elegantly furnished bedrooms with modern attached bathrooms with running hot and cold water, and a fine billiard room... Special arrangements on advance notice can be made for the accommodation of personal servants."

I handed him back the brochure, muttering, "It's not in my league."

Then he played his trump card. "Every room has a fireplace."

I decided to cut my stay from four nights to two, bargained him down further, retrieved my suitcase, and in five minutes we were in a scooter rickshaw on our way to the palace.

Entering the grand entrance hall of the palace was like stepping into a fantasy: the parquet floors, the Oriental carpets, the museum-quality Indian sculptures, the gilt-framed oil paintings of distinguished turbaned ancestors, the chandeliers, the draperies. A liveried servant took my suitcase and led me up two flights of the grand staircase to my room. There another servant lit the fire in the fireplace. "Is anything lacking, Memsahib?" he asked with a bow.

I could only shake my head in wonderment.

Before leaving, he handed me a bell. Because the electric buzzer was not working, I would have to ring the bell to summon a servant whenever I wanted anything. It turned out that I was the sole guest. All six servants had nothing to do but wait on me.

After a luxurious nap in my four-poster bed, I decided to take a bath. The servants brought up buckets of steaming water, heated, no doubt, on a kerosene stove in the kitchen. Then dinner was served in the imperial dining room. A gourmet vegetarian feast with rice pillau, dhal, puris, stuffed chapattis, chutneys, and an array of vegetable curries was served on silver plates.

Then Her Majesty, I mean, I decided to read a book. As soon as I chose which library I deigned to occupy, a servant lit a roaring fire in the fireplace. A couple hours later, I choose to take a walk. The snow-covered grounds did not entice me; instead I meandered from room to room. The palace was mine.

At supper that night, my table was illuminated by a silver candelabra. The parade of exotic dishes ended with cardamom-flavored rice pudding. To make my way back to my room up the dark staircase, I held the candelabra aloft in my right hand and lifted the sweeping skirt of my long Tibetan dress with my left hand. By the first landing, I had become the princess of a Disney movie.

By the time supper was over that night, I had had enough.

The next morning a female servant brought breakfast on a tray to my room. I meditated, bathed, chose one of the sitting rooms to read my book, dined, napped, meditated again, and read again. By the time supper was over that night, I had had enough.

Instead of ascending the grand staircase again, I pushed the door through which the servants disappeared, and found myself in the simple, Indian-style kitchen. In the middle of the large, almost bare room, the six servants were sitting on their haunches crowded around a kerosene stove, the room's only heat source. As soon as one of them noticed my presence, he started to jump up, but I motioned him down.

Not having mastered the art of sitting on my haunches, I sat down cross-legged on the cold floor, and started to converse with them in a combination of English and Hindi. I asked about their families, all of whom lived in distant villages, about the different seasons in Simla, about the people who frequented the hotel-palace, about the Maharaja and his family. The servants were convivial company, alternately humorous and sage. Sitting there on the bare floor, I passed the happiest hour of my sojourn in the palace.

THE SUKKAH

A sukkah is the opposite of a palace. Simple, usually small and even cramped, a sukkah is by definition a temporary, vulnerable structure. It provides no protection from the elements, and is penetrated by both cold and heat. Rain drenches the sukkah's occupants, strong winds can blow the sukkah down, and Jews in Europe and America often dine in their sukkah shivering in their winter coats. While most Jews decorate their sukkahs with fruit, paper decorations, or children's art projects, even the most ornate sukkah never crosses the threshold into lavishness or luxury. Most sukkahs never even cross the threshold into real comfort. Yet, mysteriously enough, Sukkot is the most joyous holiday of the Jewish calendar.

What makes a Jew rejoice in his sukkah even more than a Maharaja in his palace?

The mitzvah to dwell in a sukkah for seven days is reminiscent of the sukkahs the Jewish people occupied during their post-Exodus 40 years of wandering in the desert. On a deeper level, the sukkah represents the Clouds of Glory that surrounded the wandering Israelites. The mystical Clouds of Glory protected the people from the desert sun, snakes and scorpions, and detection from enemy nations. The Clouds of Glory are, in fact, synonymous with the Shechina, the immanent Presence of God. During the festival of Sukkot, a Jew dwelling in a sukkah is thus surrounded by the Shechina Itself.

The timing of the holiday is crucial. A Jew who truly engages in teshuvah, repentance, between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur experiences a spiritual cleansing on the Day of Atonement. Transgressions are like a concrete overpass that obstructs our "cell phone connection" with God. The atonement of Yom Kippur obliterates that concrete barrier, so that we can experience unimpeded "reception" of the Divine Presence. The roof of the sukkah, which must be porous enough to see the stars, permits total receptivity to the Shechinah.

VERTICAL AND HORIZONTAL CONNECTION

The holiday of Sukkot is a celebration of connection with both God and other Jews. The commandments of Sukkot include dwelling in the sukkah and also taking "the four species": the lulav, esrog, myrtle, and willow branch. Each of these species represent a different kind of Jew. In order to enact the mitzvah, all four must be touching each other in a unified bundle. Sukkot is the holiday of Jewish unity.

While Madison Avenue tries to convince us that happiness results from material acquisitions, Judaism teaches that happiness results from connection.

Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are days of the solitary Jew standing before God. Passover is a family holiday, when parents are charged with recounting the story of the Exodus to their children. Sukkot is a community holiday. People go "sukkah hopping," visiting each other's sukkahs in a festive spirit of camaraderie, and on every intermediate night of the week-long holiday Jews get together at a simchat beit hashoeva to dance and rejoice en masse.

The celebration of community is integral to Judaism. Maimonides wrote that a Jew who isolates himself from the Jewish community, even if he observes all the mitzvot, is considered a heretic. Community in Judaism is not just a social advantage; it's a mystical reality. The Shechinah, or Divine Presence, is associated with Knesset Yisrael, the collective identity of the Jewish people.

Thus both Divine companionship and human companionship converge in the sukkah. This is the secret of the holiday's overflowing joy.

While Madison Avenue tries to convince us that happiness results from material acquisitions, Judaism teaches that happiness results from connection. On Sukkot, we leave our possession-filled homes, turning our backs on our comforts and luxuries, and enter the utter simplicity and spirituality of the sukkah. Devoid of all material comforts but rich on connection, the sukkah is the locus of true happiness.

That's why a humble sukkah engenders more joy than a Maharaja's palace.

Sara Yoheved Rigler will be lecture touring from Oct. 28 to Nov. 15 in Monsey, Teaneck, Philadelphia, Yardley, Miami, Chicago, Minneapolis, Cleveland, Detroit, Los Angeles, and New York. Details of her lectures will be posted after her next article on aish.com.

Sara Yoheved Rigler’s all-encompassing online marriage program, “Choose Connection: How to Revive and Rejuvenate Your Marriage” is available to Aish.com readers at a special price. Click here for more info: http://www.jewishworkshops.com/webinars/connection/

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About the Author

Sara Yoheved Rigler is a popular international lecturer on subjects of Jewish spirituality. She has given lectures and workshops in Israel, England, France, South Africa, Mexico, Canada, Chile, Panama, and over 35 American cities. She is one of the most popular authors on Aish.com, world’s biggest Judaism website, and is a columnist for Ami Magazine. Sara Yoheved Rigler is the author of five best-sellers: Holy Woman; Lights from Jerusalem; Battle Plans: How to Fight the Yetzer Hara (with Rebbetzin Tziporah Heller); G-d Winked; and Heavenprints . She gives a weekly Marriage Webinar for Jewish Workshops on a spiritual approach to marriage, with hundreds of members throughout the world. She lives in the Old City of Jerusalem. Her newest book, Emunah with Love and Chicken Soup, the story of Henny Machlis, the Brooklyn-born girl who became a Jerusalem legend, was was released in November, 2016. Her website is: sararigler.com.

The opinions expressed in the comment section are the personal views of the commenters. Comments are moderated, so please keep it civil.

Visitor Comments: 14

(14)
Morley Weinberg,
October 16, 2011 4:00 PM

a most enjoyable short story

I have never made the time to travel to India , but it appears to me , that once your mind is set , it becomes a most facinating trip of a life time .
HAPPY SUKKOT to all .

(13)
Shulamit Mallet,
October 16, 2011 12:14 PM

When we step into the Sukkah, we take a step towards Home.

Dear Sara Yocheved, What an amazing experience! I probably would have done the same thing and ended up in the kitchen, (but did you get any recipes)? I love learning about other people and their cultures. I always find something that I can gain from.(I'm not sure how I would have handled the kashrus issues.) Every year I spend more time decorating my Sukkah than I've spent on any room in my house. When I'm finished, I want to spend all my time there. I put unusual decorations into it, including patio lights, and get enjoyment in thinking about how everything can relate to the Torah and our world, and all of the marvelous gifts that G-d gave us. It's also a reminder that anywhere will live on this Earth, is temporary, and what you put into it, is what you'll harvest. No matter where we live (other than Israel), no matter how comfortable we are, we have to be ready to move. Our real home is Israel. Every year, when we go out to the Sukkah, we're also telling G-d, "we're ready whenever you are, please, take us home". Our patriarch, Abraham, was ready to follow G-d wherever He led, we have to be prepared to do the same. Abraham also excelled in the 'midah' of hachnasos orchim, caring for guests. Abraham had 'an in' with G-d, could have thought he was better than anyone else, but instead, realized that he was actually a representative of G-d, and thus had to show respect and care for all. We are a nation of individuals, each of us has our own gifts, and together we make a beautiful bouquet. It's tragic when we get so wrapped up in our own shapes, that we forget how much we're enhanced by others, and that we have responsibilities towards others. It's so nice to hear the singing and laughter coming from other Sukkahs. We sometimes "join forces" and sing together. An empty palace is a cold and lonely place. There's only so much you can enjoy the material possessions that we surround ourselves with. G-d and friends, however, are for a lifetime, and beyond. A Gut Yom Tov

(12)
ruth housman,
October 16, 2011 10:25 AM

my inner sukka

This is a beautiful article, that does, in posing a contrast, the palace to the humble sukka, which is deeply part of the outdoors, being open, make one think about what is ultimately important in life because the Sukka brings us back to wind, sand and stars. To Nature. We often forget we are part of Nature.
What you wrote, about how a person is considered a heretic who is not part of the Jewish community rang some bells, because I am not affiliated, and yet I am pouring my heart out on Jewish sites. There is a strong reason for this, and that is, all my life, I have had mystic and deep revelations coming to me, and I hear that still, small voice, and yet, every single time I have tried to be heard, by rabbis, by those who are nominally our spiritual leaders, I have never been heard. My story and my soul, Invisible. So I choose to be outside those doors, and enter, by way of letters, by way of soul filled letters to that world. And I have tried. No one could have tried harder.
So for me, in being forced into solitary, into the meditative silence of stars, of wind, of my life, through long years of such yearning, to be heard, I found my way through the desert on my own, and learned about the sukka within. And I LOVE this holiday, which is about heart, and soul, and G_d.
There is nothing and nobody going to stop a story, that is so much about the sukka, about this holiday, and this season, of autumn, of Aut, within the self, and OM, the everything, the CALL to prayer.

(11)
jackie,
May 25, 2010 12:48 PM

that was very beautifully written
one leaving everything to God and having complete trust and faith in God is the most beautiful thing.

(10)
Dina,
May 25, 2010 12:48 PM

Love it!

Sara Yocheved Rigler's articles never fail to inspire me! Her writing style always pulls me in! I just bought her new book today and I can't wait to read it too! Thank you!

(9)
ruth housman,
May 25, 2010 12:47 PM

sweet Sukkot

Thank you for a truly lovely article. I feel a deep need each time Sukkos comes around to find myself in a Sukka and I will create my own or enter one, on campus at Brandeis where I participate in classes, or elsewhere, sometimes when others have left, to be alone in this most beautiful space, surrounded by fruit, and often children's art and the pervasive joy that infuses and is truly spiritual. There is something very special about this holiday. It elevates mind and soul!

(8)
Anonymous,
October 3, 2007 8:50 PM

Thank you for sharing this story of divine love

As I read this article of courage, openess, and connection...thank you for reminding me[a student of eastern philosophiesand teachings]that we do have spirituality in our heritage and religion. As I begin my journey to my jewish roots this greatly inspires me. Thank you.

(7)
Anonymous,
October 2, 2007 12:53 AM

Fortunate

How fortunate some people are to be able to live a life and experience things that most people can only dream of.

(6)
Anonymous,
September 26, 2007 6:21 AM

In the lap of luxury, you were nevertheless lonely for human companionship. Great story!

(5)
maria christina,
September 26, 2007 1:35 AM

Perfect site

(4)
aviva fishoff,
September 25, 2007 3:14 PM

cool!

what an interesting experience! thanks for sharing it!

(3)
shira,
September 23, 2007 4:40 PM

happiness

Thank you for the insight that happiness is connection.

(2)
Anonymous,
September 23, 2007 7:50 AM

but maybe just one day in the palace ;-)

Thanks for your wonderful piece. I was right there with you in the Maharajah's palace, with the golden light, the delicious smells, the luxurious bath. I am soon to be right there with you in the sukkah, with the cool night air (ok, maybe cold, but still crisp and delicious), the delicious smells, the wonderful guests, the glory of Hashem within. I know which one is real, and I know which one is eternal. There is really no choice. It is clear. That said, maybe you could arrange for all of your devoted readers to have just one day in that Indian palace AFTER sukkos? A little R and R.....

(1)
julie sergel,
September 23, 2007 7:30 AM

Of course!

What a great story! One you'd think a skillful storyteller would craft--but in this case, one grand adventure for an amazing storyteller--a double punch! Thanks for sharing. Your ability to make the reader feel as if they are experiencing what you did makes and leaves a firm impression. This was very rich with adventure and insight and I thank you for sharing!